Saddles and Sunsets
by Eternus Flora
Summary: He's a wanted man. She's a runaway sheriff's daughter. In a world of corruption, deceit, and danger, is love a strength, or a weakness? AU AH
1. Chapter 00: Prologue

**Saddles and Sunsets: A Delena FanFiction**

Howdy, everyone! Yes, cheesy I know. But, alas! This is my very first Vampire Diaries FanFiction, and it happens to feature my very favorite couple, Delena, with various other characters from the series. I'm going to try and make this as interesting as possible, with different characters interacting with each other as they might on the show but in a totally different setting. Which, essentially, is what a FanFic is supposed to be, right?

But before I get started, I will just say a few things. First of all, there will not be a Bonnie in this story. My next words may offend you, and I'm sorry about that. But I can't stand her. Sorry – her character just bugs me, is all, and I know that if I tried to write her into the story, she would just end up turning into a meanie face and I don't want to sacrifice the integrity of her character just because I don't like her. Second, these characters belong to L.J. Smith and the television adaptation producers Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec and all other unmentioned writers. Enjoy the prologue of _Saddles and Sunsets_!

**_Prologue_**

Running. Elena just had to keep running.

Darkness stretched out before her as she dashed for the stables, fear being her only fuel that kept her feet moving though her legs were screaming in protest, her heart was about to burst, and her dress had been torn at least a dozen times in the past hour. She had shed her shoes about a quarter of a mile back, deciding that they were just a hindrance that would keep her from getting out of this godforsaken town and away from _him_.

The stables loomed before her, a great structure piercing the dark sky, that offered her horses, at least a dozen to choose from, that would aid her on her journey.

It pained her heart to know that in a few minutes, she would be committing a crime, one of the highest crimes in the West other than murder and cattle wrangling. Horse thieving. But Elena had to accept that in order to get out of this town fast enough, she would have to steal. Or, to be more specific, she knew that she would have to steal a horse. Though she had already stolen a good deal of the money her father kept stashed under the floorboard in the stairwell. Those coins and bills also weighed heavily in her pocket.

He would probably return to her room and realize she was gone any second now. Then he would rouse her father and her brother, tell them of my disappearance, and within an hour the entire town would be out in search for her.

Elena had to be long gone before then.

She shoved open the door to the town stables, and within seconds over a dozen horse heads poked out from their stalls, all curious to the human that had entered their home.

There was only one horse that Elena wanted. She was going to take _his_ horse. The beautiful black filly, imported from Arabia, the one he called Black Sara. She stood there in her stall at the end of the row, her saddle hanging up next to her stall door, with her ears perked and her eyes alert. She was a gorgeous horse, and Elena had been envious of her owner the second she'd laid eyes on the mare.

Within moments the saddle was on. Elena had been around her father and brother enough to know how to properly put on a saddle and reins, and how to mount a horse. She climbed onto the black filly's back, and without even bothering with horse riding etiquette, dug her heels into the mare's sides and shot out from the stall itself, down the aisle, and out of the stables.

If she could reach Monitor's Rock by sunrise, she would be safe. And that was how Elena Gilbert's journey began.

_One Year Earlier_

"Damon, come on. We don't have much time."

Damon Salvatore looked up from his corner in the prison cell, his icy blue eyes honing in on the one person who believed him in this entire hole of a city. It was ironic, really, he mused, that the one person convinced of his innocence was the very fiancé of the woman that he had supposedly murdered, and his brother. He smirked that smirk of his and raised an eyebrow.

"What's this? Coming to my rescue like my knight in shining armor, brother?"

The look that Stefan Salvatore gave his brother was one of impatience. He was far too used to dealing with his brother's snarky comments. "You're lucky I even managed to convince the sheriff that there were cattle wranglers stealing from our ranch. We don't have much time to get you out of here, now come on."

"I think I actually wouldn't mind staying in here. Any plan that you came up with is bound to screw itself over at some point or another."

"Would you rather sit here and wait to be killed for my fiancé's murder or would you rather at least make an attempt at escaping?"

Damon appeared to consider this for a moment. "Good point." He pushed himself to his feet almost effortlessly and stretched as Stefan hurriedly used a key to unlock the door (he must have swiped it off the sheriff at some point, Damon was surprised to notice).

"Any reason why you've suddenly decided I'm worth saving, brother?"

"I know you didn't kill Katherine," Stefan replied without looking at him, closing the door and locking it behind Damon once his brother had exited. "And either way, I couldn't put my brother to death. I can't let them kill you for something you didn't do."

Stefan's elder brother, tall with raven-black hair, raised an eyebrow. "So you don't believe I'd have it in me to kill the lovely Katherine Pierce? I am, after all, a rebellious monster."

"I _know_ you wouldn't have it in you to kill Katherine. I mean, you're originally the one who-" Stefan stopped himself short, not wanting to bring up a subject that would be painfully awkward for both of them. He looked away towards the door, and went to go open it. He looked back at Damon expectantly.

"Do you want out? Come on."

Without hesitation this time, Damon strode out the back door of the jail and followed his brother out into the fading sunlight of the western desert. Waiting for him was his favorite horse from their family ranch, a great blood bay colt they'd bought off the horse traders only two years before. He raised an eyebrow. A saddle was strapped to the horse's back, with provisions practically spilling out from the saddlebags.

"Taking care of me, now, are you? What is all this?" Damon asked nonchalantly.

"There's enough food to last you a week, and hopefully you'll be long gone by then. Just do me a favor and stay out of trouble," Stefan told him, giving him a warning look. "They're going to be looking for you for a while. Stay clear of here."

Damon mounted on to his horse and realized that this very well could be the last time he ever saw his brother. He took the sight of him, the lean brother with sandy brown hair and hazel-green eyes, the brother that had always looked out for him despite his younger age. Stefan was smiling sadly, as if the same exact thought had occurred to him. Damon cleared his throat.

"You… you take care, brother. Thanks."

Stefan dipped his head and tipped his hat to Damon. "You too, Damon. Be careful. I hope we see each other again some time soon."

Without another word, the raven-haired young man who'd been accused of the murder of Katherine Pierce turned around on his horse and raced off into the sunset, leaving his brother standing there outside the back of the jail, staring after his older brother that he had no idea if he would ever see again. Briefly, the thought crossed Stefan's mind that the image of watching Damon ride off into the sunset would have been perfect if there had been a beautiful girl to ride into the bloody red horizon alongside him.

* * *

><p>And there you have it, the prologue for <em>Saddles and Sunsets<em>. Hope you enjoyed! Please note that updates for this FanFiction may be slow for the time being, as I'm a senior in high school and am in the middle of the college application process (let me tell you, hectic and intimidating and time-consuming!), and a number of difficult classes. If you'd like to leave a review, please do though! It's much appreciated. ;)


	2. Chapter 01: A Thousand Years

Well, to be honest, I hadn't expected this update to take this long, but like I said, my life's been rather busy. And, also like I mentioned, updates for this might be rather slow. As of right now, I'm in the middle of finals week and deeply immersed in college applications. The reason I'm posting this is because, in my spare time when I need to detox myself from studying, I write. And oftentimes, I find myself writing this FanFiction. I also want to thank all of you wonderful people who have added me to their alerts or favorites lists, and especially to those who reviewed. 3 They're so very much appreciated. Can't wait for January 5th, let me tell you. Just thank you, thank you, thank you, and enjoy!

**_Chapter One_**

_Six Months Later_

"There you go, sweetheart. Some fresh rolls right out of the oven."

Elena fell on the fresh food like a lioness on its newest kill, restraining herself from groaning in appreciation at the taste of fresh, warm bread that practically melted in her mouth. This was the first fresh man-made food that she'd managed to come across in almost three weeks. Living in the hot, dry desert was not as easy as some would assume, even if she lived near an abandoned ranch house out towards the mountains that had a working water pump. After living off of water, cacti juice, crackers and herbs she'd gotten from the previous town, Elena had finally decided to seek out a town to fetch herself some real food and protein.

Most of the time, to swindle people into giving her what they had, she simply told them a modified version of the truth, and almost always folk supplied her with something she could use on the journey. But Elena, oh so anxious about her past catching up with her, would always lie about her name and age.

She went by Scarlet now, and she was a nineteen year old runaway from the east where she'd been forced to marry a monster of a husband, and she had to escape to before it had been too late. Fortunately, only a little piece of that was a lie. The people she came across almost always felt pity for her (though pity was something that she hated), and gave her provisions or something she needed.

But because of that, she had to move around often. Elena utterly refused to steal from people, though convincing them to give her free food wasn't much better. Sometimes, when she was lucky, she would be allowed to work in order to earn what she was being given. Like this generous couple who owned a saloon, and they were giving her the chance to work as their bar maid for a few nights in exchange for a room and meals. Elena knew she couldn't stay here for long, because _he_ would be on her trail, and she was sure that within a week or two, he would be led here to this town. And if she wasn't gone by then…

"You alright, sweetheart? Need anything else?"

_Alright is such a relative term,_ Elena thought to herself as she swallowed the bread. "I'm alright. Thank you."

The tavern owner's wife smiled at her. "Tonight after you get done working, we'll get you a nice hot bath, yeah?"

Elena's eyes brightened at the prospect. When she came across the (extremely) rare oasis or water pump, she'd wash up as well as she could, but it had been at least a month or two since she'd had a decent _bath_. She could hardly imagine what it would feel like to be clean again.

The kind woman must have seen her change in expression, because she smiled and laughed. "Oh, you sweet little thing. We'll take good care of you, we will. Tell me, sweetheart, how long do you plan on staying in Beckett's Town?"

"I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow," Elena swiftly decided, looking up at her gratefully. "I've got to be on my way."

"Oh, goodness! So soon?"

"I have no idea how close my… husband might be."

"Sweetheart, if it's a man that's after you, you know all you've got to do is go to the sheriff. He'll protect ya, and I know my husband and me would gladly put in our two-sense if that beast ever showed his face all up here," the woman told her plainly, sounding irritated as if she was already thinking about what she would tell to Elena's 'husband' if he were to come to Beckett's Town.

Elena smiled. "No, I wouldn't want to be any trouble. I'd rather not see him for the rest of my life, if you know what I mean. And… and I wouldn't fit in here. I think I'm much more suited for a life on the road." That last part, of course, was a lie.

"If you're sure, honey." The tavern owner's wife sounded rather doubtful at this, but she didn't question the girl further. "Come on down when you're ready, sweetheart. We'll put you to work sure thing and get some meat on those bones."

"Thank you."

The woman smiled gently, her eyes reassuring and kind, before leaving the small room she'd given the runaway girl and heading back down the stairs to the saloon part of the tavern.

As soon as the woman was gone, Elena went back to devouring the last two rolls that the woman had given her, relishing in her luck. If only she could do this all the time, stopping in at each town to get a night or two of good rest and food, though she knew this wasn't feasible. Her trail had to be minimal, as faint as possible, so_ he_ wouldn't find her.

She still had nightmares, sometimes, about his finding her and making her his in every sense of the word, and taking her home where her father would be waiting for her. Elena shuddered to think of it.

Downstairs, the saloon wasn't too busy, with only a few people milling around, preparing for dinner. After six months on the run and having been in quite a few towns and cities, she had gotten the hang of the schedule in the west. The morning was completely devoid of activity, except for on the ranches where one could hear the faint cries of the ranchers gathering up their livestock for inventory and morning chores. By the time the sun was well in the sky, the town was gaining visitors, milling around the stores and the streets. At lunch time, everything was chaos – folks running around for lunch and other various things. Activity dwindled in the afternoon until the dinner rush, which was about to start by the feel in the air.

Elena smiled to herself. She'd been raised on a ranch, hardly ever taken into town except for on special occasions. Who would have known that she'd become so knowledgeable about life somewhere other than the Gilbert Ranch?

"Alright, sweetheart, I wanted to introduce ya to my husband, Roderick. Roddy! Come here and meet this sweetheart we're helpin' out! Her name's Scarlet."

A pudgy man, who'd been washing out a glass behind the bar counter, looked up upon Elena's entrance. He looked like a kindly soul, and smiled at her as she came in. His wife, who'd announced her in the first place, was sweeping some dirt over by the stairwell. He came over to offer me his hand. When I placed mine in his, he raised the hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"Glad to be of service, Miss Scarlet. You're welcome to whatever we've got to offer, y'hear?"

"Thank you, sir," I said with a polite smile.

"Sir! You hear that, Tabitha? She called me sir."

"Don't mean you act like one, Roddy, so just shut the hell up, why don't you, and show the girl the ropes?"

The next fifteen minutes were spent showing Elena what she was going to be doing that night and the next night, and Elena got the hang of it fairly quickly – she was a fast learner, as her father used to tell her when she was younger.

"You're an angel, darlin'," Roderick finally said after Elena successfully served him a cold ale as a test of her skills. "You're takin' off a good deal of pressure off me and my wife. I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do," Elena replied sincerely, leaning on the bar. "I can't thank you enough for your kindness."

"Oh, sweetheart, it's our pleasure," the wife, Tabitha, remarked as she passed with the broom. "We only wish we could do more."

Elena smiled. It was always refreshing, she thought, to see kindness and generosity in the world. Here, in the West, life was hard and demanding, and more often than not people were more interested in minding their own business and not getting involved with anything remotely sketchy. There were some communities she'd come across that were close-knit and banded together, as this town seemed to be, and it always warmed her heart to see it that way. Anything had to be better than the place where she'd come from, the man she was married to. Someday, she hoped, she would be able to live in peace, perhaps with someone who understood her as completely as Roderick and Tabitha seemed to.

The afternoon waned into evening, and people began filtering into the tavern, eager upon seeing a new face and talking amongst each other about the pretty girl behind the bar. A few men had the gall to approach her, ask her for her name and what a pretty little thing like her was doing blowing into a town like this. After a few curt and quiet answers, they all realized that she wasn't open to conversation or anything that conversation might lead to.

Until, of course, halfway through the dinner rush, one particular man entered that didn't seem like the rest. As he slid into a stool at the bar away from the others, and Elena turned around to serve him, she froze.

Icy blue eyes stared at her from across the bar, messy raven black hair peeked out from the cowboy hat perched atop his head. He was frowning, looking at her contemplatively as if there was something about her that he either didn't like or was confused about. His dark shirt stood out from his reasonably pale skin (surprising, to see that shade on someone who looked like they spent a lot of time outside, Elena thought), and the way it seemed to stretch taut over his frame suggested a good deal of lean muscle underneath. He was nothing short of beautiful.

"Do I know you?" the man demanded, his voice deep and smooth, almost like silk. Elena blinked, caught off guard.

"I don't believe so. Can…" Elena cleared her throat. "Can I get you something, sir?"

As if the question had amused him, he smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you can. Is anything underneath those clothes for sale?"

There was a second's pause before Elena instinctively lashed her hand across his face, and an audible _smack_ resounded throughout the saloon, causing a great deal of the people in the room to avert their eyes to the new and now angry barmaid, who was flushed with fury. _Gorgeous or not_, she thought in a rage, unable to believe his audacity.

"How _dare_ you," Elena snarled. "If you're looking for a place to eat or alcohol to drink, you'd best go find yourself another bar maid. I won't be serving you." She didn't care if Roderick or Tabitha found her refusal to serve a guest a disgraceful act. She wouldn't have any of this kind of treatment no matter where she went. If she didn't take it from _him_, she wouldn't take it from anyone.

The man blinked, rubbing his cheek contemplatively. It was reddening quickly, and he looked at Elena carefully as if she was some kind of novelty. He must not have been used to women taking offense to his remarks, Elena noted, though if he used those words as a greeting just about every time he saw a woman, it was a wonder he was still alive. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, daring him to challenge her.

"Fierce and honorable. I like it," he finally said, and Elena scowled. "Come on, sweetheart, I didn't mean it. Can you really blame me for wanting such a beautiful girl like yourself?"

"Considering as you're in reasonably respectable company, and I have some dignity, I'd like to think you have the least bit of control over yourself."

"Is there a problem over here, miss? He botherin' you?" One of the other men from the nearest table had stood and had come over to the bar, arms folded tightly across his chest. His eyes were on the man sitting on the stool, distrusting and suspicious.

Elena opened her mouth to respond, but the man sitting across from her only smirked and reply for her. "Go back to your supper, buck. This isn't your business."

"It's everyone's business when you're messin' with an innocent girl, stranger," said the townsperson, scowling now. "You don't just blow into our town and start acting like you can chat up a-"

The stranger snorted. "As if you can chat up anything. Go back and play with your little playmates. Surely you can get another game of sheriff and the Indian in before you have to head on home so your mother can tuck you in."

"Why, you little-"

And that was how Elena's very first bar fight began.

_Damon_

Damon was honestly starting to get sick of the whole rogue robber act, and was already beginning to wonder when he should make his next stop at Rose's place. It was always a good sanctuary when thinks were looking down, but when one stayed there for too long… He loved Rose and her girls and all, but it simply wouldn't be fair to any of them if he allowed them to harbor fantasies of any kind. After all, Damon Salvatore was not the type to settle down with a girl. The thought was laughable.

Of course, there had been one time in his life when he would have been completely content to put that diamond on a girl's finger, and that girl had been Katherine Pierce. But not only had she chosen his brother over him, now she was also dead.

And, according to popular belief, he had been the one to kill her. But, of course that wasn't true. The thought that Damon Salvatore could have ever lifted a finger against Katherine Pierce was laughable too.

His thoughts were interrupted by the nickering of his blood bay colt, the very one that Stefan had provided him with about a year-and-a-half before. The colt itself had grown tall and strong, tough and equally feisty, and was growing into a grand stallion that was enough to make any rancher around the west jealous. Not to mention, the colt seemed smarter than other horses, much more attune to his rider's thoughts and moods than Damon had ever expected. Which, probably, was the reason that he had stopped, bobbing his head up and down as if to draw Damon's attention.

They had arrived in Beckett's Town.

It was a tiny place, Damon mused, as he gently nudged his colt in the sides to continue on into the town. He rode down the main street, the _only_ street, and smirked as people stopped what they were doing to warily watch the newcomer make his way through their home.

Thankfully, the people of Beckett's Town had nothing to fear. Damon Salvatore had a pocket full of money (stolen, of course), and a few gold blocks he'd swindled off a train burglar nestled safely in his saddlebags. Nothing was going to be stolen today.

Damon pulled his colt to a stop in front of the saloon, grinning. The coins in his pocket would be sufficient for a good hot meal and a good drink. The thought was a welcome one, and so he rode his horse down to the end of the lane, where all the horses whose owners were about the town were tied. There was one horse on the end, though, that caught his eye.

A gorgeous ebony filly, an Arabian by the looks of her, was guzzling water from a bucket that she'd obviously been provided with. Damon couldn't help but stare as he pulled his colt to a halt across from the filly. Who _owned_ such a lovely specimen? While it wasn't something he would die to find out, he was reasonably curious. After all, she looked expensive. Who would be rich enough around here to actually own a filly like this?

Regardless, he swung down from his colt and tied the reins to the post where all the others were tied, but didn't bother to unsaddle him. Chances were that Damon would be out of here before an hour or two had passed – what was the point in wasting the time when he could be busy with more pressing matters, such as getting warm food into his growling stomach?

The saloon was a rather busy place, as it turned out to be. Though it was roughly about dinner time, and the citizens had every right to gather and converse and eat and potentially gamble or do whatever it was that civilians did. Damon wouldn't know offhand, considering as he hadn't been a normal civilian in almost two years. His icy blue eyes scanned the place, first searching for any kinds of danger, before he laid eyes on her.

The sight of her caused Damon to stop in his tracks. She looked so much like Katherine, but it was impossible. Her long dark hair was tied back to reveal an olive-toned face and what looked like chocolate brown eyes. A heart-shaped face. Skinny, but reasonably small-framed.

Without a second thought, Damon approached her. He slid into a stool and raised an eyebrow at the girl. She turned, and suddenly Damon found himself staring into the girl's brown eyes, just as he'd surmised. Strange. "Do I know you?" he demanded, raising an eyebrow. Perhaps she wasn't Katherine (because, of course, girls like that couldn't quite come back from the dead, now could they?), but maybe she looked so familiar because he had seen her somewhere before, though he highly doubted it. She could have passed for Katherine's sister, perhaps.

"I don't believe so." Hm. Interesting. Her voice was so like Katherine's too. "Can… can I get you something, sir?"

Immediately, Damon smirked. He'd been asked that question so many times by pretty young women like this one, his answer was almost automatic. "I'm sure you can," he said, "Is anything underneath those clothes for sale?"

Never before had such a question received a negative reaction, so he was reasonably surprised when he felt the sting of being slapped across the face. A woman had never struck him before.

"How _dare_ you. If you're looking for a place to eat or alcohol to drink, you'd best go find yourself another bar maid. I won't be serving you."

He had to admit, he was rather impressed. He was officially convinced that this girl wasn't Katherine. If she was, she certainly would have taken his innuendo in an entirely different way. Damon eyed the bar maid contemplatively, and she glared at him as if daring him to say something else that would offend her. She looked so harmless, yet so feisty. "Fierce and honorable. I like it. Come on, sweetheart, I didn't mean it. Can you really blame me for wanting such a beautiful girl like yourself?" Damon said, doing his best to look innocent. After all, the whole purpose of his coming here was to seek out a decent meal. He very well couldn't go about accomplishing that goal if this serving girl refused to serve him.

But the girl was beautiful, he had to give her that. "Considering as you're in reasonably respectable company, and I have some dignity, I'd like to think you have the least bit of control over yourself," she snapped.

Damon opened his mouth to reply.

"Is there a problem over here, miss? He botherin' you?"

Damon sighed and looked over to see that one of the men from a nearby table had risen and wandered over to the bar, where Damon himself was sitting. Honestly. Some of the people in this society were just too focused on honor, defending the women. It was ridiculous. As if there were many women worthy of defending to begin with. Most of them ended up being cheaters and liars anyway.

"Go back to your supper, buck. This isn't your business," Damon finally said, a spark of irritation in his voice.

"It's everyone's business when you're messin' with an innocent girl, stranger," said the townsperson, scowling at Damon. "You don't just blow into our town and start acting like you can chat up a-"

Damon cut him off. "As if you can chat up anything. Go back and play with your little playmates. Surely you can get another game of sheriff and the Indian in before you have to head on home so your mother can tuck you in."

"Why, you little-"

That was when the first punch was thrown. As if it was second nature to him, Damon ducked. At the sight of violence in the saloon, a number of hollers went up around the place, and already two more men had appeared next to their companion as if to join the cause against the stranger who'd insulted a poor young lady's pride.

_It's the beauty,_ Damon told himself as he sidestepped yet another possible punch to his face. _Pretty girls always get everyone in a fit._

And as he popped up to see the bar maid again, he couldn't help but once again notice that she _was_ beautiful. While she shared a resemblance with Katherine, he realized that there was something softer in her features. Something sweeter. Katherine probably would have appreciated the chaos that came with a bar fight. This girl, whatever her name was, was frozen with terror.

After Damon barely managed to avoid another tackle, that was when he saw the first gun come out of its holster.

With no other thought in his mind, Damon realized that the poor bar girl was probably in the range of gunshot, and he vaulted himself over the vault and crashed into her, taking her down with him as the first gunshot rang out and men started turning on each other.

Turned out that Beckett's Town wasn't so civilized after all.

"What are you doing?" the bar maid suddenly cried out in dismay.

Damon clamped a hand over her mouth and shook his head. He made a gesture for her to be quiet. Shouts rose up as chaos reigned, and the noise of a brawl roared in their ears. As quietly as he could as well as making sure that the bar maid heard, Damon said, "Just stay back here and stay down. People don't pay attention where they're shooting or throwing a punch in a fight like this. Be careful." Carefully, he removed his hand from her mouth.

The girl eyed him suspiciously. _Why?_ was the unspoken question in her eyes, a question that Damon didn't see fit to answer. Because the question in itself made him feel uncomfortable, as it questioned his own usual philosophy when it came to survival like this. Most of the time, he only wanted to get out, leave everyone behind. Yet, this time, his reflexes had forced him to protect this girl first. Damon never did that.

He only smirked at her, and tipped his hat to her. "You're a mite pretty, miss," he said as respectfully as he could in a mock farewell. "Take care of yourself."

And with that, he ran away from the beautiful bar maid who strangely resembled the murdered Katherine Pierce, a face that brought back many haunting memories that he'd rather have forgotten. Another shot rang out, and Damon ducked as an automatic reflex as a glass bottle shattered somewhere on the wall above his head. He was blindsided by one of the drunk patrons, but a quick knee to the face was enough to deter his would-be attacker, and Damon stumbled to the door, and ran out from the saloon. To freedom.

His colt had heard the muffled gunshots from inside the tavern, and was whinnying nervously, along with the other horses tied there at the post. As smart as the horse was, there was no helping his natural instincts of fleeing from potential danger.

"There now," Damon said, as he quickly untied the reins and swung up into the saddle. "No need to fret. We'll be out of here in no time." And he dug his heels into the colt's sides, and the colt shot off for the desert, the wild expansion of sand and desolation. And as they furthered themselves from the tiny place that was Beckett's Town, Damon only had two thoughts on his mind:

First, he hadn't gotten the meal he'd promised himself, and his stomach grumbled in testament to that. But second, the beautiful bar maid with the gorgeous chocolate brown eyes haunted his mind, and Damon found himself never wanting to forget that face.

* * *

><p>I really hope you all like this first official chapter. But now I have something else for you! For every chapter, I select a song to go along with it. And each song goes to a Delena video on Youtube. The title of the song is the chapter title. To find the link to the Youtube video, go to my profile and you'll find it there. Please know that I made none of these videos, the copyright for the material goes to the wonderful CW and its writers, and the copyright of the video itself belongs to those wonderful people who take the time to make them. Thank you all so very much, again! (Also, forgive me if you find any grammatical or spelling errors.)<p> 


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